


Suppose Hell Froze Over

by PacketofRedApples



Category: Control (Video Game)
Genre: Caretaker!Dr. Casper Darling, Catching a cold, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sick!Zachariah Trench, Sickfic, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 04:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21293945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacketofRedApples/pseuds/PacketofRedApples
Summary: A story of Trench catching a cold and how Darling forgets what field he became a doctor in, in order to take care of the Director of the Federal Bureau of Control.
Relationships: Zachariah Trench & Dr. Casper Darling, Zachariah Trench/Dr. Casper Darling
Kudos: 21





	Suppose Hell Froze Over

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, so this fic tonally is a disaster. And a general disaster because I never wrote something like this before, so be prepared for it to SUCK.  
I tried my best, but in the end, I sort of gave up... I don't know.   
I started this back in September and finished it just now.

It might have been the poor weather conditions or maybe it was the heating being capricious and being fixed for a week. Not the entire bureau suffered from the sudden cut, but Executive did. Half the employees in the sector were on sick leave. Dr. Darling hated cool temperatures and considered himself fortunate for research not suffering the worst of the issues. Honestly, he didn’t even think it’d affect him. Regardless of what caused it, Casper startled when there was a sudden loud sneeze behind him. Mostly due to the sudden sound, that is. But the problem really only started then.

The doctor turns behind, from where he stood in his spot in the line to enter the building; looked at the source of the sound—surprising himself, even more, when he saw who it was, if only because he never before had seen the man in poorer health.

“Trench—uh, god bless you?” Darling says as the other removes the hand from his face, looking somewhat annoyed.

“Sorry, it must be dust. I guess Ahti needs an assistant, after all.” Zachariah speaks a tad sluggishly before he sighs and readjusts his coat as if to make himself warmer. The scientist notices this. But, despite it, Darling nods and turns back to look at the front of the line. He didn’t think much of it at that time.

It is when Darling turns up at the management team meeting, somewhat late as was common for him, that he notes a scene. Usually, upon entering, they would have remarked upon his inability to show up on time so he’d think of a reply on his way up. After all, just like everyone else, he was busy but the lab ate away at his time more than need be. He couldn’t just drop everything and rush up—he had to make sure all was safe. Besides, he usually was only a few minutes late. However, entering the room, he forgot what he thought up.

Barbara was putting down a cup of something in front of Trench as he nodded thanks to her; meanwhile, Marshall did the same, before turning back to The Director with a sterner look. Darling moves to sit down to his spot next to them, greeting Salvador and Tomassi (who seem unfazed), and a slight wave to the secretary leaving the room, on his way.

“Everything all right?” The scientist asks, concerned. Helen and Trench break away from their little bubble then it seems and Trench glances at the other man, looking absolutely exhausted.

“Fine and dandy.” He says with utter distaste oozing off the words if you ignore the glaring scratchiness of his voice. Marshall shakes her head disapprovingly. She always read Trench much easier than Darling could ever manage, and he envied that.

“Seems our director caught a cold and still decided to show up to work.” Helen explains, annoyed on her own accord and fairly so at this.

“It’s not like I can just take sick leave, the bureau needs me.” The argument might have spiked there, but Trench sighs and picks up the cup Barbara had placed in front of him before that. The steam builds up next to Trench’s face, fogging his glasses as he sips the warm liquid. Tea, for once, instead of coffee as something to be more helpful than to keep him awake and going.

“Sure, but you’re just going to be more miserable than normal and get everyone else sick.”

Casper grimaces at all this. It felt uncomfortable, but he also was mentally cursing himself out for not picking up on it the morning and telling Trench off till he had no other option than to go home. This was not a good place to be right now.

The meeting carried on as usual for the most part, not counting the several times they had to pause because Zachariah desperately needed to sneeze. He apologized as formally as he could manage for it, but it didn’t change Marshall’s opinion that he needed to go home and stay in bed until he got better. Darling did manage to chime in with seconding that opinion, but Trench only shook his head and asked to continue with the problems at hand.

Salvador and Tomassi left first, chatting along the way to the elevator. Marshall stood from her chair and attempted once more to tell Trench to go home before he gets everyone else ill. No luck, but she didn’t seem much defeated by it. She did call him an old fool and left, however, till it was just him and the scientist left.

“You should go home, it might get worse.” Darling offered, still sitting at his spot at the table. Zachariah glances at the doctor, and then at the empty cup, he was holding in his hand.

“I’m not yet old enough to die from a cold.” While that might have been true, Darling shook his head.

“How about I take you home?”

“No, Darling, it’s fine. I can do my work and suffer through this.”

“Or you can go home, get better and catch up on paperwork you still won’t manage to do because of feeling like hell.”

“You’re not going to let this go?”

“No.”

“Fine, but only for today. I had enough of you and Marshall pestering me about this.”

The scientist beams up at the other man, satisfied to have heard that.

By the point Trench is leaving, Casper shows up at his office wearing his coat and holding a scarf. 

“What are you doing?”

“Going with you to make sure you get home.”

“Do you trust me that little?”

“Just to rest my nerves, will be going back after I am sure you’re in bed.”

Zachariah sighs, approaches the other, still moving sluggishly.

“You better, or I’m docking it out of your pay.”

“Right…” Casper mutters, as he then raises the scarf to Trench. “Put this on.”

Trench gives a bit of a suspicious look to it, and then takes it, shuffling towards the door as he put it on. Darling considered this a small victory. At the door, Zachariah stops to slide into his coat, yet before the other could rush to him to help, the man managed it. Now that was a small loss.

They exit the office, say goodbye to Barbara and head out. To say Dr. Darling was ecstatic would have been an understatement. 

* * *

When they got to Trench’s apartment, Casper looked around his medicine cabinet, noted the lack of anything that wasn’t a first aid supply and left to the nearby drug store. Lucky him, it wasn’t too far away.

Meanwhile, while he was gone Trench sat down on the sofa in the living room and spaced out for a solid ten minutes, mind preoccupied with things he should be doing instead, feelings of guilt wash over him for leaving the Oldest House.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but with the amount of chaos already present in the FBC, it wouldn’t surprise him that missing even if just for a few hours would somehow result in something as bad as a fire starting and burning the whole place down. He isn’t sure, but here he is thinking if an Object of Power would escape and like a god damn cow just destroys everything… He tries not to think of it, but it proves more difficult than he anticipated.

He’s actually so preoccupied worrying that he doesn’t hear Darling enter. It’s only when the other man makes his way to stand in front of him and chooses to speak.

“You all right?” The scientist asks, still wearing his coat but no shoes. Didn’t want to trail dirt into the apartment.

“I feel like death, so – no.”

Darling grimaces at that as if to say ‘yikes’ before returning to a somewhat neutral expression and pausing for a second more to look over Zachariah. Concluding this won’t get them both far, he reaches into the baggie he was carrying and takes out a small box.

“I got you one of those teas—you know, should help with the head cold.”

“Right, thanks, Darling. You can go now.” Trench mutters, still not budging from his spot on the couch.

A beat as the silence settles for a bit, an amused Casper tilts his head.

“Didn’t I say I’ll stay till I’m sure you’re in bed?”

Trench glares up at the other, seriously looking annoyed at this prospect, yet somehow that evicts a cocky grin from the scientist.

“Fine.” Zachariah says, standing then moving towards his bedroom as he slides out of his jacket. Casper detours into the kitchen when following; there he puts down the bag, takes out a bottle of Advil, pours two tablets onto his palm when he gets a glass of water and follows to where Trench was. The Director now stood in his undershirt and boxer briefs, placing away his pants. Darling stares, and it’s a cough that gets him out of that state.

“Take this.” Darling says, closing into the man, trying to look at his face and nothing else. Which was harder than it seemed. He offers up the pills and the water which Trench takes without too much if any, hesitance. He downs them in one go and Darling watches his throat. If anything it should help… well, not the gawking, but the medicine. “Do you have sweats or something?” He then proceeds, slightly looking concerned.

Trench nods approaching his closet and taking out a pair quickly. He slides into them, but it still leaves the other man distracted.

“All right, get into the bed, then.” Casper says with a chuckle.

“Fuck off, Darling…” Trench whines back, as he still complies by getting under the sheets. Darling approvingly looks on and smirks, before leaving the room. That’s the last The director sees of him before passing out.

Zachariah relaxes his muscles, lets his arms rest at his sides, breathes out and repeats the phrase ‘don’t think’ in his head till he’s asleep. When he awakes, he’s still surprised how quick that can work. That or he can pin it to not remembering much due to the haze. 

Regardless, it’s dark. He must have not dreamt a single thing, because he can’t recall anything and he’s still lying in the same position he fell asleep in… but it must have been several hours later. He glances at the clock on his table, it was 7 pm. Sure, winter takes sunlight away quickly, but at this time that point was moot. That was besides feeling worse off, his head was killing him now and he felt like what Northmoor should feel like at this point. He sighs, wipes his forehead.

Trench sits up in bed, brain suddenly aching from the sudden move. Eventually, as he settles down till he’s less so in pain, he hears faint snoring somewhere in his apartment and puts two and two together.

“That bastard…” Comes somewhat groggily from his mouth as he gets out of bed and stalks over to his living room. Sure enough, Dr. Casper Darling was passed out on his couch.

Trench looks him over, the utterly unremarkable sight of him sleeping. The fact that somehow, it was endearing bothered him.

Without much thought, he flicks the light switch, instantly regretting it as his eyes grow sore.

“Fuck…” Zachariah breathes out, blinks a bit but it doesn’t adjust. It still hurts.

“You okay…?” Comes Darling’s half-asleep voice from somewhere in front of him. Trench forces his eyes to focus. 

“Why the fuck are you still here?” Trench’s inquiry is at the very least fair, but still doesn’t possibly excuse his frustration at the moment.

Casper chuckles. Awkwardly moves back on the couch to a half-sitting position then rubs the back of his neck as if that’ll help with the stinging pain in his neck from the position he slept in.

“I guess you’ll be docking this out of my pay.” He tries to shoot up a look at Trench as he slides on his glasses. But the other being without his own, probably didn’t see much of it—that is ignoring the agony his eyes were at that moment.

“Consider yourself lucky… I won’t.” Trench murmurs, still looking like hell. Casper takes in this sight.

“Oddly good mood?” He’s hopeful, but hoping never gets you far.

“You wish.” Trench says, now outstretching his arm to lean against the doorframe. He actually needs the support, as standing is becoming tiresome.

Darling gets off the couch, strides over to The Director and places his palm against the other’s forehead.

“You’re hot.”

“Thanks.” There’s a light tug on the corners of Trench’s lip there, evident he was teasing, but regardless, even if Darling does the same in return, he explains.

“You’re burning up. I think you have a fever.”

“Great.” Trench’s complaining was the only thing alleviating the damn pressure he felt; he lowers his arm and walks back into the dark hallway and towards the kitchen.

The Doctor follows him, noting how Zachariah’s hair was for once out of place. Not as neatly slicked back, as usual, few strands falling out and overall moderately disheveled. It was oddly tousled and it bothered him. However, he forces himself to ignore this now, instead sliding past him into the small space to get to the kettle, before starting to prepare tea he wants to attempt to turn on the light, but just as his hand hovers over the switch, Trench softly says ‘don’t’.

Darling nods. Proceeds carefully around the area once his eyes adjust. He gets the small box of Theraflu, prepares the cup for hot water. Meanwhile, he gets two more Advil pills and offers them to Trench with another glass of water.

Zachariah takes them without much thought.

When the drink is prepared, he sets it carefully down next to Trench and sits down at the small table, just across from him (there were only two seats, really there was no option).

“Thank you. You can go home now, Darling.” Trench says while breathing rather heavily. Voice quivering slightly and even if it’s hard to see in the dark, Casper can spot the other shake.

“I should stay to keep an eye on you now—“The attempt to wear the other down begins.

“You’re not even that kind of doctor...” This is not yet a failure.

“If you’d stop acting like a stuck up child, you’ll see that need help.”

Trench glares at the other, or rather, tries to. Then shakes his head, sparsely and picks up the steaming cup of medicine.

“You’ll just end up getting sick if you stick around.”

“That’ll be my own problem if I do. Please, let me help.”

Trench doesn’t look at him then, trying to pretend the other just didn’t say that. It was easier to remove the niceties, to just be direct, avoid emotions. It was a way to compartmentalize this entire thing. Made it so much easier at that… Trench didn’t want to feel bad for Darling, but also he knew he still would by the end of the day even if it was insignificant.

“I want you out of my apartment by tomorrow morning.” Zachariah says, and even if it sounds like a lost cause, Casper decides to push his luck with this. He didn’t have to say anything, just behave accordingly. The man decides until the next morning will be enough time. There was no other option here.

The Director takes a sip of the medicine, tries not to wince at the disgusting taste, more so than the warm temperature which honestly doesn’t help in any way.

They sit quietly for approximately the fifteen minutes required to drink it, Trench looking more displeased by the end of it than before. And Darling gawks on, more fondly than he should let on, but he takes refuge in the dim light and the other’s impaired sight.

The scene didn’t feel intimate though. There still was an endless river separating the two men, despite Darling’s efforts to connect on some level. Right now, even if they sat here alone, in silence that didn’t bother either— it still ignited a fire in Darling that needed to be put out. Especially now, this wasn’t the right time.

But being here for Trench, now, it could do some good. Or so one hoped…

Trench rose from his chair, listlessly taking several steps into the hall and stopping to lean against the close by wall there. Casper moved after him, jumping to his side and providing some balance. The Director looks at him with narrowed eyes, seemingly murky in his understanding of what was happening right now.

“You need to lie down.” The Doctor explains, absently moving with his free hand to brush a few strands away from the other’s forehead. Zachariah nods, still gingerly so. Either that was the lack of energy, or he was still aware he was in pain. Darling takes this as a sudden sign from some sort of laughing god, so he leads the other to the bedroom, unable to not notice how soaked through Trench’s t-shirt now was.

After sitting him down on the bed, he rushed back to the kitchen, to refill the glass with water and returned to The Director. He helps him drink it somewhat, holding onto his hands gingerly in case the other would drop it. Unlikely as that might be. Not that Trench complains about it, though. After the glass is downed, he places it onto the bedside table, assists the other with lying down and covers him with the duvet. He straightens his back, looking over the about to pass out man.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Darling says, slowly turning to leave the room.

“Right.” Trench replies, quietly enough so that the Doctor barely hears it, yet he does and it inflicts a small smile onto his face… Another small victory, he concludes.

* * *

Darling worried that he would sleep through alarms, most of the time, which is why he constantly set it to repeat multiple times. He wasn’t a very deep sleeper, by far, but he could sleep his life away at any rate. So this, among his worried self, was the main reason why he rejected to allow himself to fall asleep that night. He almost did, sitting calmly a couple of times, which resulted in him jolting awake—cursing silently at himself—and then looking to find an activity to keep him occupied. One of which was finding Trench’s laptop. He succeeded in locating the rather old thing, but then to his misfortune, despite living alone (and barely having anyone except Casper over), the damn thing had a password on it. The Doctor didn’t fancy himself much of a social engineer or that Trench would make his password obvious enough to fish out of a conversation, so he went and placed it back in its place. With nothing to do, he sat in the living room, trying to stay awake, feeling regret that his phone was at his apartment. Least he could do was read something online. There were a few books on Trench’s shelves. Mainly authors that would just depress the ever-living hell out of him… So he opted not to read either.

He looks at his wristwatch. Four in the morning. Close to morning.

So what was Darling to do?

He kept returning to that question. And somewhere, between contemplating this and ruminating on what he could see in the incredibly empty apartment as if it would provide help.

A low and muffled voice in the bedroom catches his attention eventually and Darling moves there to see what’s happening, half expecting to see Trench awake… Instead, the sheets were kicked off him, resulting in Zachariah sleeping relatively curled on his side. He was still surely asleep, hair now a sure mess… but he spoke through the phase. It was fairly indistinct words, but Casper moved closer—mainly to put the sheets back onto the other. As he got it to the man’s hips, he let it rest there. But within the proximity, came a sudden understanding of what The Director was saying. To some extent at least. He could just about understand the ‘help her’ and ‘please’ within the sounds.

Guilt had a way to eat away at you... But Darling’s own pity for the other man always did the same.

Casper kneeled next to the bed, placing his hands into the other’s and tracing light patterns on the palm. This didn’t stir the man. Taking this as a good sign once Trench quieted, but didn’t flinch awake, the Doctor rested onto the bed from his kneeling position. Maybe it’s a good thing he stayed awake… or perhaps he’s giving meaning to things that have none. Kind of poetic to give emotions to things that had none. Didn’t mean his own reactions weren’t genuine enough for this. He was so certain this could work; he didn’t even consider the possible consequence, the changes that would occur and how they could affect him. Suppose it was so out of reach it didn’t matter.

He fell asleep.

He doesn’t dream when he passes out. Doesn’t do much of anything and if anything, he only half sleeps. It’s the emptiness in his hands, the lack of tangled fingers with his that awake him, when he feels them pull away he panics, eyes shooting open. Darling looks at his hand to see that it really is missing a companion. He’s just about to look over to his boss, to see what happened—If he’s awake and removed himself from an awkward position, or if he’s asleep and did it unaware. But the hand that soon rests on his head answers that lightly brushing through his hair, evoking in a sigh from Casper.

“You’re awake.” Trench says, it might have been intended as a question but it falls short of that.

“How are you feeling?” Darling doesn’t allow himself to move an inch, doesn’t want the petting to stop, even if the position he was in now hurt his neck and back. It felt nice to be on the attentive side of the man—but then it does end. Seemingly Trench realized it might inspire false hope. With the contact lost, The Doctor looks up at the man only then, both looking into each other and taking in their unkempt sight.

“Better, I think. At least better than last night.” Trench says, eyes suddenly averting from the man. “Think I could go back to work, honestly—“

“You shouldn’t. Just to be on the safe side, stay home a bit longer.”

Trench returns his eyes to the scientist. Glaring now slightly, frustrated perhaps. It was a sudden shift, but with Trench’s good moods being so imperceptible, it wasn’t hard to see coming.

Darling huffs and traces his fingers over Trench’s inner forearm.

“It would be better if you took the time to recover.”

“I can recover at work, I can’t afford to waste time. Speaking of, what time is it?”

Casper shakes his head, looks over at his watch.

“It’s ten o’clock. Twenty-five minutes past ten.”

“Didn’t I tell you to go home by morning?” It’s a reminder, an attempt to get him to leave, to give up. Darling chuckles and then looks up at him.

“I guess you did, but I never was good at listening to you.”

“You’re a terrible staff member, really.” His voice still manages to come off somnolent. This worries Casper, but in the end he stands up, picks up the glass from where he left it and walks back to the kitchen, taking a moment to fix his glasses along the way. By the point he comes back to Trench, the man’s sitting in his bed, seemingly having attempted to fix his hair somewhat and it oddly worked. This is more than what Dr. Darling bothered to do.

The scientist places down the tea he made for the other onto the nightstand, sits down on the bed and carefully brings his hand to his boss’ forehead. Feels the skin and nods approvingly.

“Your temperature went down; at least for now. That’s good.” He explains and allows his hand to drop back to his side; his statement barely felt topical now… Seemed there was the ever-pressing matter of when he’s going to leave. Not an intention he had. Not now. Being inside this apartment might as well have been a privilege he was going to milk it for all it’s worth.

“I need a smoke.” Abruptly comes from Trench as he tries to get up from the bed. Darling nods, standing as well, ready to evade the other while he does this but before that trying to help only to be swatted away. “I can’t do it in my apartment.” Trench explains as if catching on. He gets off from the bed, goes towards his discarded clothes from the previous day.

“Wait, why?” He feels dumb, yet it feels weird… Casper didn’t like the idea of letting the other go out so soon.

“The guy I rent from would be on my nerves about it. I rather not get in a pissing fight with him.”

“Well, you might have to then, just open the window while you do--”

“You probably noticed this place’s heating is shit, I’d rather just go to the alleyway outside and get it over with.”

“Do you do this every time you need to smoke when you’re home?”

“More or less.”

Darling contemplates this for a second or two and then goes to get his coat. If the other is going out, he might as well go with him to be sure he’ll be fine—or worse yet, not ditch him to run to work.

When he’s got his shoes and coat on, he comes back to Trench, who is wearing less of his suit than before (missing the waistcoat and tie, practically looks naked like that on him now) and is heading towards the hallway himself.

“Do you not have a sweater or something?” Darling might have asked, but he still goes to the closet to check for himself. Even as a ‘nope’ comes from The Director, he looks over every shelve and all. The guy really didn’t have any casual clothes, as it turns out. He had workout clothes, but that’s the best. No hoodie, no FBC sweatshirt, no cardigan, no nothing. There’s a frustration that runs over the scientist then. He quickly runs a hand over his hair, which luckily adjusts it somewhat to look less like he just woke up.

He goes back to the door and watches Trench slip into his shoes, tie them and slide on his jacket. Darling takes the scarf left on the rack and rushed after the other man when he’s out the door. He halts him there, after he locks it, and does up his coat’s buttons, then puts the comforter around his neck.

“Always caring, huh?” Zachariah remarks as the doctor loops the fabric around his neck.

“Absolutely.” He smirks, making sure to induce a slight discomfort of tying it too close to the man’s throat. He’s sure he succeeds the moment he sees Trench walking away and adjusting it to be not as suffocating.

They go downstairs, taking the lift, then down the street, taking a sharp right turn. There, The director takes out his packet of Black Pyramid’s and once one cig is out, he puts it in his mouth, lighting it soon after with his long-suffering zippo. As ever, it seems the damn thing barely wants to work, but it still fails to infuriate Trench. If anything, it plays more with Darling’s nerves. After watching him finish up the smoke following them having no conversation at all, besides the slight smirk Trench shoots him when he spots him grimacing at the smell, he’s certain they’re going to go back up, but the other takes out another and lights it.

“You know, they call them coffin nails for a reason. You shouldn’t chain-smoke so much.”

Trench chuckles smoke jerkily coming out of his nose as he does this, the cigarette still in his mouth. Darling commits that sight to memory, despite how much he hates it.

“You seem awfully concerned about my health lately.” Trench comments, taking out the ‘coffin nail’ from his mouth exhaling smoke properly.

“I’d rather you wouldn’t die so soon.” Darling burrows his eyebrows, this time in a display of frustration.

“Why’s that?” The other doesn’t seem too affected by this, which annoys the scientist further.

“I might lose funding with the next director.”

“You’re just charming enough to make it work, I’m sure.” The cig comes back to Trench’s mouth and he continues to repeat the motion, puffing out smoke. But Casper can’t help but notice him leaning slightly against the brick wall during this.

“You okay?” Darling steps closer, despite himself, the offensive scent of tobacco clinging to him.

“It’s the damn cold, makes the nicotine go straight to my head.” Trench explains, still having half a smoke left. This doesn’t halt Darling, who tugs at the other’s sleeve, forcing him to stand upright.

“Okay, you had enough—Let’s go.” He slides his hand to the other’s back, then lingering probably lower than he should. Trench grimaces, but then puts out the smoke onto the brick wall, just as he did with the previous, and flicks it into the nearby dumpster. Then allowing the scientist to guide him back home, despite finding some dissatisfaction in it.

“I shouldn’t have let you smoke without having breakfast first…” Darling mutters more to himself than at Trench, but this evokes another chuckle for The director.

“You always act like a housewife when your friends get sick?” Trench leans a bit at Darling as they enter the stairwell and head towards the elevator, clearly attempting to bite with that query.

“Only you, apparently.” It succeeds to get under Casper’s skin, but a lot of things Zachariah does succeed in that.

Backtracking to the apartment, they go in only to quickly lose their shoes and coats, Trench soon after goes into his bedroom and sits down on his bed, only loosely realizing Darling went into the kitchen. He’s content just ignoring the other man’s shuffling around his apartment for a bit longer until a realization dawns on him.

“You’re not actually making breakfast, are you?” The Director’s anguish over this is obvious as he walks into where Casper is. Casper looks at him like the other’s asking the obvious. It feels stupid— Zachariah feels stupid there for a second and he loathes it. He decides, he really needs the scientist out of his place now. Needs to think of how…That is what he’s trying to figure out, glaring at the man as he goes about looking through his fridge.

“I’m going to make sure you eat before I get to work… Hoping not to see you there. Unfortunately, I can’t leave it all to Emily for this long.” Darling explains, taking out the eggs that were in the fridge, seeing as they were one of the few things you could actually make something resembling breakfast food with that were there.

“So now your sense of responsibility kicks in?” Trench asks as if what had transpired previously hasn’t even occurred. However, he’s also relieved to be getting rid of the other.

“I mean, if you want, I can stick around.” Darling’s comment comes clearly, pretending to be an idea, but Trench knows it’s only said to annoy him…To get The Director to ask him to leave again. So Zachariah chooses to ignore it, sits down at the table and watches the Head of Research prepare him breakfast.

“I’ll be back in the evening.” Casper says as the pan begins sizzling with the eggs, sunny side up. He waits for an answer as he turns on the coffee machine, takes out the plates after some searching was done for them with no help from Trench telling him where they were. Despite the time given, nothing comes. Casper sighs. He puts down breakfast for the two of them and sits down across from the other who still is watching him silently.

“You’re just detriment to be quiet now?” Darling pokes at his food slightly, easily letting the egg split and leak out its yolk. Not looking at the other’s eyes.

“I never invited you to my place, yet you still made yourself at home. I don’t see why I have a say in this now.” Trench’s is sound in his bitterness, correct and as ever– condescending as hell.

“I’m concerned about you.” Darling looks up now, defensive.

“You have no reason to. Why?” Zachariah picks up his coffee mug, takes a sip, pretending to be disinterested.

“I don’t know why I just care about you… We’re…” God, he can’t say it, can he? He’s not actually going to blurt out how they’ve been tip-toeing around the damn topic like a couple of shy preteens. “…Friends.” Great evasions maneuver there, Casper.

Zachariah looks down at this plate, huffs, and nods. He looks mildly uncomfortable by this, looks back up at Darling and opens his mouth to speak only to say nothing, for a split second closes it and tries again.

“Yeah, guess we are… Sorry. I suppose I’m not used to it.”

God damn it, he makes it sounds so pathetic and sad then that Casper suddenly feels terrible like he’s the one with bad intentions here. The scientist, despite himself, smiles softly, unable to help himself there.

“So… Is it okay if I come back this evening?” He tries again.

“Guess so.” And that’s as much as he got out of him… deeming its Trench, guess nothing more could have been expected—even after a somewhat heartfelt moment, it’s still Casper feeling like he’s the asshole here. But he ignored the bugging feeling there, digs into his food.

By the point, they’re done eating, and Casper does the dishes and leaves, it’s about half-past eleven. Trench locks the door, collapse into bed once he changed back to a t-shirt and sweats. Tries to sleep but feel suddenly guilty about, ruminates around the idea of going back to work only to realize he’d have to avoid Darling all day which would be a pain in the neck, of which Zachariah has more than enough of already. Blame it on the old age. It is only at twelve that Trench actually gets off the bed for the once more that morning and paces around his apartment. What the hell was he to do till Darling came back? He had to be productive in some way, but figuring out how to be so and not be at work was proving more difficult by the second. Hell, if anything it was provoking a large grievance in him. Everything was setting him off, starting from the wick tea he made that proved too hot to drink right away, to the fact that he found himself just emptily sitting in his living room. He didn’t want to waste time like this, allow the other feelings to seep in.

At one in the afternoon, he realizes he’s too cold in his t-shirt. He goes through his closet to only come to the same conclusion as Casper did earlier that day. Zachariah admits to himself, he needed more casual clothes. Sure as hell won’t lie around his place dressed in a god damn suit… But then spoken, directly, he barely was home, to begin with. When he was—it didn’t matter… So why should that change suddenly? His wardrobe had one purpose only, so why change that for a rare occurrence of getting cold. So he opts out to go to bed. Doesn’t sleep, just lays there feeling miserable. Can’t sleep, despite it being several hours till Casper returns. He should be happy to be home alone, but he’s come to recognize that his apartment is tragic, pathetic by the standards that he has nothing to do here… It’s a dog house to sleep in for a god damn mutt and nothing more. He knows he could easily doze off if he wished to, but that’d probably be a bad call. He doesn’t want to awake to the doorbell and Casper to see him in that state again. He doesn’t know why it should matter, but it was bad enough he wanted the man around suddenly.

While it wasn’t a brand new realization, he still kept his distance around the scientist. Knew it’d be better that way. Letting somebody close to him would only end in disappointment for both parties, even as friends. Yet, what does it matter when he’s busy already thinking of the other as a close companion. It’s a weakness, waiting to be exploited. Trench fears it. The harm coming for him and Darling… But then again, who would be ludicrous enough to try anything? Besides the countless OOPs—well great, at any rate, this train of thoughts is just making him upset. Then again, ‘upset’ isn’t the right word, annoyed is more accurate.

Trench bites the bullet, forces onto himself the idea that it doesn’t matter and goes to sleep around two.

Sure enough, at around six-thirty in the evening, the doorbell rings.

It’s embarrassing how Zachariah finds himself shooting up in bed and quickly onto his feet. He sighs, once the realization comes down to him—it’s Darling.

Not bothering to fix himself up, he walks to the door, looks through the eye-hole to be sure it is who it’s supposed to be and opens it. Casper doesn’t bother for any niceties, carrying a bag of something in his hand he offers it up to the other.

“Dinner.” He explains and steps into the residence. Trench takes the bag, only to realize it’s still warm. He wants to almost ask why even the other would bother, but doesn’t. He bites his tongue. “Put it down in the kitchen.” Comes clear instructions from the doctor. So the other complies.

Following The Director doing so, while feeling almost like he was being ridiculed in this scenario, Darling steps in, having taken something else out of his shoulder bag.

He presses it to his boss’ chest, proceeds to take the Chinese takeout from the bag. As Zachariah looks at the foreign item, he feels embarrassed at the prospect of understanding why he was given it. Without any more explanations or anything, he slips into the sweatshirt. It’s warm… Smells awfully like the aftershave he picked up Casper uses. Minty. It almost makes Trench’s stomach churn, but he doesn’t make it obvious, instead picking up one of the boxes of food and opening it.

“You didn’t have to.” It feels silly to say, but he does.

“I’m too tired to make anything.” Casper breathes, flopping down at the chair.

“You don’t have to do that either.” The counter-argument feels absurd, but he tries despite the mootness.

“And let you starve to death?” Casper tosses that at him, as he picks up his own container and begins eating.

“You seem awfully determined… Did Helen talk to you about this?” Trench sits down, picks up a fork and begins to eat.

“We’ve been through it this morning; I care because we’re friends.” There’s a static air around Darling then like he’s frustrated about this. Zachariah can’t help but pick up on it, decides to say something.

“If it frustrates you, you don’t have to do it.” There’s light defeat in his tone, sounding like a farmer who lost all his land. He doesn’t know why, but he surely couldn’t control it now, and it was disheartening.

Casper sighs then puts down his food and mildly glares up before his eyes soften.

“I just want to be useful to you.” The Head of Research looks less like just that, and more like the boy next door with each passing moment. It’s painful to look at. Especially since Trench knew he wasn’t as go-lucky as he tended to pretend to be. It was refreshing to see him confrontational, but it also made The Director uncomfortable.

“You already did more than enough. I appreciate it.” It’s an attempt to diffuse the situation. It’s too late as it was already calming down, so Casper says nothing.

They eat with minimal chit chat, throw out the carton boxes along with the bag and Casper is certain he’ll just let the other rest. Zachariah has no such intentions, having done so recently enough.

“I think I’ll come back to work tomorrow.” Trench muses as he approaches the door.

“If it feels right...” Casper follows close behind, still discontent at the idea but fighting it less.

“Thank you for sticking around.” The Director faces the other man, who looks mildly concerned now.

“Get some sleep, tonight.” The command is clear enough, whether the other listens to it or not though? That’s a whole different ballgame.

“Maybe later.” There it is— the defiance.

“Doctor’s orders—“A grin from the non-medic.

“Still not that kind of doctor.” Zachariah says through a real smile seeming fake as he opens the door. Let’s the man out, so Casper does just that, he steps out.

“See you tomorrow then.” Casper offers a weak wave, before walking towards the elevator. Zachariah watches over him, unsure of what to say or do, but feeling the urge for something. Watches the other call the elevator, turn back to him still playfully smiling. Trench sighs and shakes his head.

“Thank you, Darling.” He then says, even if it feels pathetic. “Really.”

This seems to surprise the other man, whose smile drops and he walks slightly forward to him, but the lift rides up and opens its door, Casper glances back then returns his sight to Trench.

“I’m always here for you, Trench. Know that.” He says and then moves into the elevator, pressing the first-floor button. Zachariah looks on, nodding once the door shuts. The wave of emptiness crashes onto him, just as before keeping his mind running on tracks about things that were concerning… So the normal state of his mind. It was nice, however, having Darling around.

But for tonight, it’s just him alone.


End file.
